


Interstice

by HSavinien



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Companionable Snark, Interlude, Multi, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HSavinien/pseuds/HSavinien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An interstice is an intervening space, a narrow interval between things or parts.  </p><p>They're prepping for a job.  Eames is trouble, Arthur is irritated, Ariadne is amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interstice

Ariadne hummed happily to herself as she climbed the last few steps to the loft they had rented for set-up, carefully anchoring with her chin the tin of spackle on top of the mountain of bristol board in her arms.  She elbowed the door open and nearly dropped everything at the truly epic stream of vulgarity coming out of Arthur's mouth.    
  
"...kuse muuntajaan!" he finished, spitting the last phrase at Eames, then whirled around to glare at Ariadne.  "What?" he asked flatly.  
  
She tried, probably unsuccessfully, to wipe the amusement off her face.  "Really?  'Piss on a transformer'?  We kind of need him."  Ariadne dropped her supplies on the folding table she'd claimed and turned to peer at Eames, who appeared to be trying to merge with the sofa.  "What did you do, forge his dad as a harem-boy or something?"  
  
They both stared at her.  
  
"Well, I wasn't going to guess a 'ur mom' thing, way too overused and also really freaking sexist."    
  
Arthur rolled his eyes and stalked away, growling, "You fucked up, you tell her," over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchenette.  
  
She aimed her most skeptical eyebrow-raise at Eames, who sat up straighter and put on one of his injured expressions.  She cranked up the eyebrow and added an exasperated frown and he looked at least a little chagrined.  
  
"I may have gotten us slightly more...obligated to Yusuf than Arthur would prefer."  
  
"Like...extra pay on the next couple jobs he helps with?"  
  
"Like..." Eames smiled weakly.  "Put up him, his daughter, his sister, and three cats for the next four months until the little trouble with the mercenaries dies down."  
  
Ariadne stared at him.  "While we're in the middle of a long-term, secret, highly-illegal job working for what is essentially a Taiwanese separatist movement."  
  
"Yes, I believe that's where the discussion with Arthur began, pet."  
  
She whistled low.  "Wow.  Not one of your best days there, Lon Chaney."  
  
"Not my worst either," he drawled, smiling.  
  
"None of us have been shot yet, so no."  Ariadne shook her head and went digging in her tool bin for the exacto knives.  
  
Eames sloped to his feet in her peripheral vision and wandered over to sling an arm around her shoulders.  "Come on, pet, it'll be fun.  Won't it be nice to have some other women around the place?"  
  
She shrugged.  "I guess so, but I'd rather not have to stop Arthur murdering you in your sleep if this distracts him from work."  
  
He nuzzled her neck and purred, "Oh, you know we're the only people who can distract him from anything."  
  
Ariadne elbowed him in the side.  "Still in the doghouse, you hornball.  Did you miss the part where he yelled at you?"  
  
Eames chuckled.  "It was informative.  And you speak something Scandinavian?"  
  
"I had a Finnish roommate for awhile,"Ariadne confirmed.  "I know a few insults, lots of swearing, and 'oh fuck yes, harder' because she liked French university students a lot and always forgot the sock thing."  
  
Eames laughed.  "Excellent.  You'll have to teach me."  
  
"Can do.  How old are Yusuf's kid and sister?"  
  
"Eleven and fortyish, I believe.  He didn't really go into specific biographies."  
  
Ariadne hummed.  "Is Arthur allergic to cats?"  
  
"Not that he's ever indicated."  
  
"Should be all right, then."  
  
"I thought we'd probably manage."  Eames rested his chin on top of her head.  "Do you want anything from the shops?  I was going to pick up food for tonight and nibbles for the next few days."  
  
"Some dried fruit, anything but papaya, and rice chips.  Just salt, nothing fancy," she replied absently.  "I'll be working on the fishing-boat maze for the next few hours, then I'll see if Arthur's calmed down a little."  
  
"Fishing boat maze?  That sounds interesting."  Eames leaned over, invading her space even more with warm muscle and the slide of too-bright silk against her cheek, and poked through the looseleaf with her preliminary sketches.  "Oh, this will be fun.  Did you know Dom's prone to seasickness?  We never did anything on boats when I worked with him.  But this..." He chuckled.  "Oh, we're going to be able to cut the projections off marvelously.  They'll see us once in a while, but won't be able to reach us."  
  
Ariadne nodded, pleased.  "Exactly.  And it's going to be night-time, so there'll be lamps for illumination and lots of confusing reflections, but no clear path-line besides the one we'll be memorizing."  
  
"Oh, you lovely woman, that's going to be beautiful and cruel."  
  
She grinned.  "Yes, I know.  Now stop flirting with me through my work, I'm not that pissed at you.  Weren't you going to get food?  Arthur's more likely to calm down if his blood sugar's stable."  
  
Eames sighed,  "My clever plan, seen through in an instant."  
  
"Food."  
  
"Yes, darling, I'm going."  He patted his pockets to check for keys and wallet, winked, and disappeared out the door.


End file.
